


When Merlin's Tree Shall Tumble Down

by burningqueen



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-27
Updated: 2011-04-27
Packaged: 2017-10-18 18:02:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burningqueen/pseuds/burningqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Arthur is Charles II, Merlin is Merlin, and there are some trees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Merlin's Tree Shall Tumble Down

**Author's Note:**

> written for the kinkme_merlin prompt: Arthur/Merlin, English Civil Wars.

I.

A few hours later, when Charles was starting to get really uncomfortable crouched there in that damned tree, footsteps returned to the clearing. The sound of branches being snapped under feet echoed in a terrifying way Charles had never thought possible and he watched as Pendrell's eyes widened dramatically in fear. One of the Roundhead's soldiers had passed right by their precarious refuge earlier and--oh, thank the Lord--not looked up, but the king's heart hadn't stopped pounding since and it was loud enough that he worried anyone who came now would surely hear it.

And sure enough, the approaching footsteps came with a man and that man stopped right below their tree. Charles looked down at the brown mop of hair with trepidation until that head titled up and a pair of very familiar sapphire eyes bore into his own. Then his heart almost stopped completely before it exploded into the largest surge of emotion the king had ever felt, even as he'd said goodbye to his father as the man had been led away to his execution.

"I think you can come on down now, sire," Merlin said, his lips curling into a smirk that was relieved, jubilant and terrified all at once.

II.

Only a room away, the abbey was filled with hundreds of his subjects; they were waiting for him to enter the hall and resume his place on the English throne. Charles steeled himself and silently made a promise that he would not disappoint them, or Merlin, or his father, who had given his life for their family's right to rule the land as God's chosen leaders. All day he'd been remembering his first coronation--almost a millennium previously--the same exact nerves that had made him jittery and easily riled then now made him quiet and pensive. The pressure had been great all those centuries ago, but now, after over twenty years of fighting for this, it was even greater.

Charles slapped Merlin's hand away as it reached out to adjust the lapels of the cape that hung around his shoulders. "I'm sure I look fine, Merlin," he chastised.

But the warlock only looked back at him earnestly and said, "You've just got--there--some lint." And he quickly darted his arm up to remove the offending spot before stepping back to admire his handiwork.

"Well, how do I look?" Charles asked, adopting his most regal tone and stature.

"Oh, _Arthur_ ," Merlin breathed, and Charles--no, Arthur, he was always Arthur with Merlin--shivered at the tone in the other man's voice.

Merlin bent down into a bow that was somewhere between mocking and exceedingly reverential. Then he straightened up and grinned widely, a hint of mischief in his eyes. He gestured to the door grandiously. "Let's get you crowned, your highness," he said.

III.

It wasn't until months later that Charles finally managed to get away from the duties of the crown and head out to Carmarthen with Merlin. Technically, he wasn't supposed to do things like that but he was the king, dammit, and if he wanted to take a visit out to Wales to celebrate his six month anniversary of sitting on the throne, he could. What was the point of being the king if you couldn't take a holiday whenever you pleased?

Merlin just stared at him indulgently as he explained this. "You're slagging off, Arthur," he said matter-of-factly. "You could at least admit that."

Charles just shoved at his shoulder lightly. "Shut up, _Mer_ lin, this was your idea. You can't complain."

Merlin shrugged and reached into the bag haphazardly thrown across his shoulders, retrieving from it a handful of acorns and holding them towards Charles in his open palm. He grinned. "Well, shall we?"

And so Charles, the King of England, Scotland and Ireland, got down on his hands and knees and helped dig a hole so Merlin could plant a tree to commemorate the return of the Pendragon line to power in the little Welsh town where he'd spent the last millennium.

(Not only that, but they'd returned to Worcester and taken them from the tree Charles had been perched in when Merlin had come to fetch him because Merlin had a thing for symmetry, which Charles only huffed incredulously at and went along with because he'd learned over the years that was best.)

It didn't take very long; the hole was dug and the acorns were put in it and then covered with the displaced dirt. When he was finished, Charles stood and wiped the soil off his hands and onto his trousers, making Merlin wince. "I think that should make a very fine tree one day," the king announced, sidling closer to where Merlin stood.

"Yes, I think it will be," Merlin agreed, and then that mischievous glint returned to his eyes and he followed it up with, "Unless you've screwed it up, which wouldn't surprise me." He too began to inch closer and closer to Charles.

"Please, I could plant a tree with my eyes closed!"

"Oh yes, sire, I'm sure you could."

"In fact, it's one of the simpler things that I'm exceedingly proficient at."

"Right. Of course." Now they were only inches apart. Charles was glad to see that this time around he had managed to come out ahead in height and Merlin was forced now to look up at him through his eyelashes. "And what else are you good at, sire?" Merlin finished mock sweetly.

Charles took a quick glance around, making sure the street was quite as deserted as he thought it was, and looped his arms around Merlin's shoulders, tugging the other man even closer to him. He murmured, "I've been told I'm pretty good at this," and softly touched his lips to Merlin's. What started out chaste quickly became not and Charles allowed himself to get lost in it until suddenly he found that Merlin's tongue was rubbing against his own and Merlin's hands were slowly coming ever closer to his arse and, dammit, they were in public!

"Could you at least wait until we've got a room to ourselves?" he chastised, praying that the beginnings of his erection would stop right in its tracks and go down.

 

"You started it," Merlin pointed out a bit too sensibly and Charles couldn't help but cuff him upside the head

"Shut up, _Mer_ lin," he said.

IV.

They started back for London later that day. Much later, it has to be said, after a long stop over at an inn Charles was a little nervous he'd get a disease from.

Charles went on to spend the rest of his days with Merlin by his side, running his kingdoms as their rightful king. And when the time came for him to move on from that life, Merlin stayed just long enough to make sure the true succession was in place before he said his goodbyes to the palace staff, returning to Carmarthen, that little village in Wales, to begin the wait for his king all over again and look after their tree.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't actually know more about the English Civil War that what I learned in AP Euro so some research was required to remind myself who these people were. And I realized with only about five minute of Googling that there were two very interesting trees that could be connected to Charles II and this story quickly grew a tree theme. The first one is the Royal Oak, which is the tree that Charles II hid in to escape from the Battle of Worcester in 1651. The second is Merlin's Oak in Carmarthen, Wales. It was planted in 1660 to commemorate Charles II's return to power and quickly grew to be connected to Merlin, whom some legends say was born in Carmarthen. The prophecy connected to both Merlin and the tree is where I got the title.


End file.
